Gloria and the Mountain
by xnotyourstar312
Summary: We are all running from something.
1. Chapter 1

Stacey sits upright in her seat, as she has done the entire flight. Most people like to sleep on a plane, to utilise its potential as a resting place before they head off on whatever adventures await them. Besides, planes are notoriously uncomfortable; the longer spent unconscious in them, the better. Certainly, the passengers on Qantas flight QF108 from New York to Sydney, Australia are no exception to this general rule. The plane is virtually silent. An occasional snore can be heard, as can the rustling of the pages of an in-flight magazine. A baby whimpers several rows back, and its mother sings to it in gentle, soothing tones. But Stacey is oblivious – to the sounds of the baby, the flickering reading lights, even the mild discomfort that is now making itself known in the small of her back.

Her mind is occupied by more pressing concerns.

Such as where will she stay when she arrives? She knows that an old friend of hers, Nick Mitchell, has been studying at university in Sydney. They had worked together in the mall for about a few months in her later years of high school; she had run into his mother buying groceries six months ago. She could find an internet café, look him up on Facebook, casually drop into the conversation between the 'how are yous' and the 'it's been so longs' a request for accommodation, just until she gets herself settled. But could she impose herself on his goodwill like that? She and Nick had been friends, and they'd even dated a little. But a lot of time had passed and they hadn't really spoken since she left her job, well over a year ago. Besides, did she really want Nick to know where she was, what she was doing? His mother still lived in Stoneybrook. She'd probably heard her story by now, at least the parts that were public knowledge. As much as she liked Nick, he really couldn't be trusted.

She supposes she'll have to find some sort of backpacker's hostel. That shouldn't make too much of a dent in her savings, which are extensive; she's had a few cash injections in the last few months from welcome and unwelcome sources alike. But she doesn't know how things will go in Sydney and she wants to make sure she is able to find work, that she even likes it enough in Australia to stay, before she goes splashing cash around indiscriminately. She'd gone to the library before she booked her flight, and spent a lot of time researching different cities. US cities were out, as was Europe. She wanted to be as far away from New York, from Stoneybrook, Connecticut as she could possibly be. She'd read about Sydney, seen it described as cosmopolitan and friendly, decided it was as good a place as any to start over. To make a new life. But she wants to be sure.

Stacey pulls out her own in-flight magazine from the pocket in front of her and opens it to an article on Singapore. She stares at the page but the information does nothing to penetrate her thoughts. She's started thinking about Stoneybrook again, a place she's promised herself she would try to forget. She'd moved there when she was thirteen, and had such happy memories of her early adolescence. Her middle school years were recalled with a fondness Stacey embraces warmly. Of course she'd had her own adolescent dramas; she'd fought with her friends, dated the wrong boys, argued with her parents. She'd rued the fact her father was a workaholic, that she had diabetes; she'd felt embarrassed and ashamed and angry. But she'd belonged to a club, a baby-sitting club, with a wonderful group of girls. She'd had good boyfriends, lovely boys who wanted to hold her hand and take her to movies and kiss her awkwardly goodnight on her doorstep. She'd had a good academic record and a love for mathematics, a healthy social life, two kind, loving parents…

_No!_ She thinks. _No more of that. This is your new life now. Forget Stoneybrook even exists._

The voice of the flight attendant interrupts her thoughts. 'Miss?' she asks. 'We're about to land. Please put on your seatbelt'. Her voice sounds frustrated; Stacey looks up and notices everyone else around her is prepared for landing. She must have really been out of it. She does as she's told and within half an hour the captain's voice is heard: 'Welcome to Sydney. The local time is 7.43am. Thank you for flying Qantas.'

This is it, Stacey thinks. My new life.

Almost 15 hours later, Stacey is lost. Completely, hopelessly lost. She'd taken a taxi from the airport into the city centre and began exploring. She walked by the water, window shopped, people watched and before she knew it, it was getting dark. She began searching for a backpacker's hostel to stay in. 'What do you mean, you're booked out?' she'd yelled at the receptionist at the last place she'd tried. 'You don't have any space? Nothing?'

'Sorry,' the receptionist had replied, and to her credit she looked like she really meant it. This didn't make Stacey feel any better.

All of the hotels she'd tried had been proper hotels, with men waiting outside to park your car and chandeliers in the halls. Finance-conscious as ever, she'd hopped on a train, thought she'd try to find a place in a nearby suburb where prices should be cheaper. She'd not accounted for jetlag, nor the fact that she would fall asleep almost the second she sat down, nor the fact that she would wake up in an outer suburb she'd never heard of, nor for the fact that trains to the city would not resume until the next morning. The place she has ended up in is depressing. It's some sort of industrial town, she is surrounded by factories and barbed wire and road, miles and miles of road. By now functioning on auto-pilot, Stacey begins to walk. She knows she should stay by the train station, sleep there and catch the first train back to Sydney. But she also knows she won't be able to sleep, and thinks that the monotony of walking might take her mind off her thoughts. Perhaps she will find a place to stay; her optimism is faltering, but remains in tact.

She walks for 20 minutes before reaching a built up area, surprised it took her so little time. There is a supermarket, and a bottle shop, and a pub. There is no hotel. There is nothing for her here just as there will be nothing for her in the next town, and the next, and the next. It is cold, very cold, and she doesn't have a jacket.

She crumples on the ground by the side of the road and begins to cry. She's not sure at what point she stops crying about her current situation, and at what point every emotion she has been suppressing for the day, for the last week, the last few months comes flowing out. She'd counted on this trip being the change she needed, but it's turned out just like everything else. She's alone, she's scared and she can't forget whatever it is she's escaping from. The despair she feels is all consuming, soul destroying.

'Hey, pretty lady,' a voice in the darkness says. She looks up and sees a tall body and a small, mean mouth. He is drunk, she can smell the alcohol on his breath. He is swaying as he stands, unable to retain full balance. 'What are you doing out here all by yourself?'

'I'm lost.' She doesn't know why she tells him this. Perhaps because he is the first person who has spoken to her since she arrived here. 'I don't have anywhere to stay'. Perhaps because she knows how she can make this situation work for her.

'Well,' he slurs, his eyes glistening in the dark. 'Maybe I can do something about that. How 'bout you come back to my place. I'm sure we can find somewhere for you to sleep.' The insinuation in his voice makes her feel sick, but she accepts his hand when he offers it to her. Old habits die hard. She knows what he wants, but she doesn't care.


	2. Chapter 2 Claudia

_**A/N **__Thanks to those who read and reviewed. Hopefully the links between everyone's stories will become a little clearer in time, as will the character's back stories. This is my first fan fiction so any and all comments are much appreciated. Thanks!_

"Oh my lord," I murmured under my breath. "Remind me what we're doing here again?" I brushed several loose strands of hair out of my eyes and stared up at the sky. The sun was beaming down up us, round and bright in the cloudless blue expanse. I cursed it, silently. It was making an already difficult task all the more unbearable.

"Claudia!" Kristy responded, with mock horror dashing across her face. "We are here to _find _ourselves. To open our eyes to the world of possibilities at our feet. To _live._" She twirled through the vines, light on her toes. 'Can't you just smell the self discovery?'

I rolled my eyes. "Of course, Kristy. How could I forget? We're here to find ourselves. It's so obvious! Although I don't know how much of myself I'm finding these days.' I paused, and looked to my left, to my right, straight ahead. 'Mostly I'm just finding more grapes.'

Kristy let out a loud laugh, and even Mary Anne cracked a smile. We were in the middle of nowhere, a vast plain of nothingness, picking grapes. All we could see for what seemed like miles, in any direction, were grapes. Of all the things we could be doing, picking grapes in the middle of the Australian outback was not something I would have chosen voluntarily.

'I don't know,' said Kristy thoughtfully. 'Maybe we'll discover the meaning of life in the depths of this valley. The meaning of life is…grapes?" She ducked as both Mary Anne and I pelted her with a decent share of our afternoon's pickings.

'A genius, Kristy, is what you are.' I turned to face Kristy, a menacing look in my eye. 'Just don't think I'm ever forgetting this. One day, you won't know when, you won't know how, I'll seek my revenge. Sleep with one eye open, Thomas'.

The three of us laughed. As much as we might complain about our situation, we were actually enjoying ourselves. Even Mary Anne, timid little Mary Anne, who enjoyed sewing and reading with her cat by her side, had admitted last night that this was a refreshing change of pace. 'As long as we're not here too long', she added. I must admit I agreed with her. As someone whose definition of manual labour is fishing out a Mars Bar from a hard to reach spot under my bed, the grape picking was more than a little exhausting. We had been in Buronga, a town known for its wine and, consequently, its grapes, for three weeks. It was all Kristy's idea, of course, all of this. Another of Kristy's Great Ideas.

About one and a half years earlier, the three of us – Mary Anne, Kristy and I – were sitting in Kristy's backyard, enjoying the first days of summer. Mary Anne had brought some needlepoint along with her and was beginning her latest task, a cat. "Always with the cats, Mary Anne," I said, laughing. She is so predictable, but I love that steadiness about her. I was threading flowers together to form headbands. I had already completed one for Kristy's step sister Karen, her adopted sister Emily Michelle (who was wearing hers proudly atop her head), and Mary Anne, and was working on one for myself. I'd asked Kristy if she wanted one but the look of absolute scorn on her face told me all I needed to know. Kristy's little brothers and sisters were playing a game of softball, with Kristy barking instructions from her position beside Mary Anne and I in the shade.

"No, David Michael!" she cried, before jumping up to show him how _she _would hold the bat if she were playing, and then how _she _would hit the ball Karen pitched to her, and finally how _she _would accept her home run graciously, by doing a lap of honour around the backyard chanting, 'Kristy! Kristy! Kristy!"

Mary Anne and I just laughed. We'd grown up with Kristy, we'd become accustomed to her many…quirks. "Look at her," I said as Kristy began her second victory lap, whooping and cheering as she went. Even Emily Michelle was looking at her like she was crazy. "I can't believe she's a high school graduate."

"I can't believe _any _of us are," Mary Anne sighed. "I still feel so young, Claud. I mean, we're still doing the same things we were doing when we were 13. Needlepoint and daisy chains? Drinking lemonade in Kristy's backyard, minding her brothers and sisters? I love them, and I love this, don't get me wrong. It's just…I feel like the end of high school should have been something bigger, more extravagant. A celebration."

I understood where she was coming from. We hadn't really celebrated with the rest of our graduating class (we attended a party that Emily Berstein and Erica Blumberg hosted, but left early – about the time Alan Gray began to projectile vomit). The three of us hadn't had the easiest few years. Finishing high school was an important time for us, and not just because it meant an end to our relationship with Stoneybrook High School and all who walked its halls. It was symbolic, as Mary Anne liked to say. It was the end of everything bad that happened to us in the past, a time to start afresh. We needed to remember it, to mark it out somehow.

That night three of us went to the Rosebud for a special dinner; I was dressed to the nines in a sequined black top, short black skirt and sky high heels, Mary Anne dressed neatly in a floral print tea dress and ballet flats and Kristy…well, Kristy was dressed as we would expect Kristy to, in jeans and a polo shirt. They were, she informed us, her best jeans, meaning they were the only pair she owned that were clean and had no holes at the knees.

"This is nice, you guys," said Mary Anne as we sat waiting for our orders to arrive. And it was, nice I mean. "I know I've been making a bit of a big deal about how we haven't really celebrated since graduation, but it means a lot to me that we're here tonight." I noticed tears welling in her eyes and handed her my napkin, which she accepted gratefully.

A look flashed across Kristy's face. I had seen that look hundreds of times before, and my stomach sank a little. It was the look that appeared when her mind was formulating one of her great ideas. Would she suggest we organise a carnival, complete with rides, for our old baby-sitting charges? Climb a mountain? Rob a bank, for some added excitement? Oh my lord.

"You guys," she said softly. "I don't want to alarm you, but I think I just had my greatest idea yet". An evil grin spread across her face as Mary Anne and I exchanged worried glances.

"Kristy," I said firmly. "I do not want to rob a bank with you".

"What?" she said, confused. "Rob a bank? No, no. My great idea is…wait for it…travel!"

I tried not to look disappointed, but I'm pretty sure I failed.

"Oh!" I said, faking brightness. "Great! We could take a trip to New York, I guess. We haven't been there in a while."

"Claudia!" Kristy responded. "Please don't interrupt while a registered, classified, certified ideas machine is speaking. I don't mean New York. New York is old news. _America _is old news! What I'm talking about is international travel. Getting out of Stoneybrook, Connecticut, this whole damn country. Seeing the world!"

A smile spread across my face. "Seeing the world? Kristy…I think I'm ready to admit what you've known all along. You're a genius!" Kristy stood up and took a bow, and I squealed with excitement. I'd been talking about how much I wanted to leave this town for years, but I'd stepped it up in the last year or so. I couldn't handle the pressure, the expectations, the disappointment, the choices. And here was Kristy, offering me the escape plan I needed.

"I don't know, Kristy," Mary Anne said, always ready to drag us back to reality. "Do you think we're really ready to travel overseas by ourselves? Do you think we can afford it? Oh my goodness, what will my father say?" Her face turned red and had disappointment written all over it. I could see she wanted this as much as Kristy and I did.

"Details, details, my dear Mary Anne. Of course we're ready to travel, we're adults now Mary Anne! Confident, capable adults. My parents will be cool with this – they'll be glad to get rid of me – and they'll talk to your dad and Sharon. I'll use some of the old Thomas charm, they'll be putty in my hands. As for money…we'll work! That's it! This is a working holiday. We'll pay our own way by working – an English pub, maybe, whatever work we can find." Kristy's eyes were sparkling, she was pleased with herself.

Mary Anne's closed her eyes, furrowed her brow; I could see she was thinking it over. As much as I loved Kristy, we couldn't do this without Mary Anne and we both knew it. We'd been through so much together; it was important that we stuck together, the three of us. Kristy and I looked at each other in anticipation; I crossed the fingers on both of my hands.

"Well," said Mary Anne slowly. "You make some convincing points, Kristy. I don't know how easy my father will be to convince, but if anyone can do it it's you…"

"Mary Anne!" Kristy cried impatiently. "What are you trying to say?"

"What I'm saying is that I guess…I guess we're going overseas!" I squealed again and leaned across to give Mary Anne an enormous hug. Kristy came and joined us and before long the three of us were hugging, jumping and laughing in the middle of the restaurant, not caring who could see us. Pete Black, a boy we went to high school with and a waiter at the Rosebud, gave me a strange look as he walked past us.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Win the lottery?" I looked at my two best friends.

"I think maybe we have," I replied.

And so that was it. Kristy began her charm offensive on Mary Anne's father, but I think it was Sharon who ultimately got through to him. She reminded him what a terrible time Mary Anne had been having, and how this might be the one thing to bring her out of her shell, to help her move on from the past. He'd always been protective of Mary Anne, but had become ultra protective of her after everything that happened – he barely let her out of the house, unless he or Sharon, Kristy or I were with her. I think he thought if she wasn't constantly surrounded by people, she might break down. Or worse. But I think he realised Sharon was right. Mary Anne really did need this. Kristy's parents were fine with it – I think they were looking forward to having one less child in the house, and one less set of lungs! My parents, by that time, didn't really care what I did. "You've made your choices, Claudia. You're an adult now," they had said. "There's nothing more we can say."

Kristy and Watson organised all our documents, the paperwork, everything we needed to do to see our plans come to life. Within a few weeks, we were on a plane bound for London. At first, we were terrified. Mary Anne cried for the first few nights, and I admit I shed a tear or two myself. It was such a big journey, what we had planned, and so many things could go wrong. Even Kristy, who constantly puts on a brave face, let her guard down when we actually set foot in London. "What are we doing here, guys?" she said. "What do we know about living in another country? We're small town girls, we can't –"

I interrupted her. "What was it you said about being adults, Kristy? You ran a successful business for three years – you started when you were _thirteen. _Don't let something like this scare you – look it in the eye and take it head on!" This seemed to work, and she never complained again. We all just threw ourselves into life at full speed. After London we travelled to Japan, where we taught English (my idea) and then on to Nepal (Mary Anne's idea) where we worked on a number of different projects – Mary Anne helped out in an orphanage, I assisted with some community art projects, and Kristy bossed everyone around while helping to build a school. Finally, it was Kristy's choice of destination. She chose Australia, and Buronga is where we went. We'd been grape picking for about five weeks, trying to earn some more funds before we headed off to a major city. Kristy said she'd always wanted to pick fruit in Australia, but that seemed a little farfetched. Our plan was to return home – to Stoneybrook – after two years, maybe a little longer. We missed our parents – well, Kristy and Mary Anne missed their parents – and we had our lives post-high school to think about, as much as I didn't want to face it. But at the same time, we were having the greatest time of our lives. We rarely ever spoke about Stoneybrook, and all the things good and bad waiting for us when we returned.

"Claudia!" I snapped out of my daydream when I heard Kristy's voice. "Did you hear what I just said? It's time to go, the working day is done!" It's funny, no matter where we went the weekend was still the highlight of our week. Kristy, Mary Anne and I tore out of the vineyard at top speed, waving goodbye to our boss, Mr Bertinelli, as we went. "It's the weekend, Boss!" Kristy yelled. "Try not to miss us too much!"

"Six am on Monday, girls," he called back. "Don't be late!"

The three of us jumped in the car Kristy had managed to borrow from Mr Bertinelli, to get us to and from work each morning. He'd been very good to us in the short time we'd known him, and it was sad to think we'd be leaving him soon. But, bigger and better things awaited us. Our next plan was to travel cross-country, hopefully ending up in Melbourne.

We headed back into town, to the backpacker's hostel where we were staying, showered and changed. We were going to the Baronga Pub that night. Friday night was band night – the drinks were cheap, and we always saw at least one person we knew from the hostel or the vineyard. Kristy put on her 'good' jeans, a clean singlet and Converse sneakers. Mary Anne picked a crisp white dress, made of a gauzy, flowing fabric. I, on the other hand, selected my outfit for maximum effect. I always like to make a lasting impression and maybe, just maybe, there might be someone at the Pub who I might like to impress. So I chose a tight, striped bandage dress, and the tallest pair of heels I had with me. I twirled around our room, showing off for my friends.

"Claudia!" Mary Anne exclaimed. "Are you not a little…dressy for the Pub? I mean, you look lovely, but it's just the Pub."

"Hmmm," I replied. "Perhaps. I thought we might run into Olivier there. He's…"

"Adorable?" Mary Anne suggested.

"I was going to say pretty damn fine, but adorable will do," I laughed.

"Oh Claud!" Mary Anne squealed. "Do you like Olivier? That's so lovely, his accent is so dreamy! You look beautiful, he'd be an idiot not to fall in love with you in that dress!" Mary Anne is such a romantic. I wasn't looking for love, not least because I would be leaving Baronga soon, and so would Olivier. I just wanted a good time. He was a French backpacker who worked at the vineyard with us, and was staying in our hostel. Every night after Kristy and Mary Anne went to bed I would sit up with him, playing cards, drinking cheap wine and laughing. He did have a 'dreamy' accent, and had a lovely, elfin-like face. I wanted him to like me, as much as I liked him.

In the car on the way to the Pub, we sang along to the radio. An old Johnny Cash song was playing and we crooned in time, _Give all my love to Rose, please won't you mister. Take her all my money, tell her to buy some pretty clothes._ We were nearly back at the hostel when we heard a loud "thud!"

"Shit," Kristy said. "What was that?"

"How the hell should we know, Kristy? Man, if you've hurt Mr Bertinelli's car, even so much as a scratch, you know we're walking to work from now on." What I was really worried about was that she might have hit a person; images from_ I Know What You Did Last Summer _flashed through my mind.

"Not helping, Claudia," Kristy said as she got out of the car to take a look. Mary Anne and I joined her.

"Oh Kristy," said Mary Anne, her voice barely a whisper. "It's a baby wombat." She scooped up the injured animal in her arms and wrapped it in her sweater. There was blood, a lot of blood, and even though we all felt bad (Mary Anne most of all), things didn't look so good for the wombat's recovery. Mary Anne sat on the hood of the car, cradling the creature in her arms. Kristy, I could tell, wanted to tell her to leave it, there's nothing we can do, no point getting upset about it. But it was too late. The wombat was dead, and tears were welling in Mary Anne's eyes.

"We'll have to give him a proper burial," Mary Anne said, sucking in her breath and trying to stop herself from crying.

"Oh for God's sake…" Kristy sighed, but I shot her a look that warned her from saying any more. She found a shovel in Mr Bertinelli's car and began to dig, muttering under her breath. When she'd finished, Mary Anne invited her to say a few words. Kristy looked like she was going to hit her over the head with the shovel but, thankfully, we were interrupted by the sound of tires running over the gravel road.

A dirty white van pulled up beside us, the window rolled down. A man – a boy, really, he didn't look any older than eighteen – stuck his head out of the window and grinned widely, not sensing that at least some of us were upset.

"Hi girls," he drawled lazily. "How're you going?"

"Fine," Kristy said warily. I knew she was thinking about the lecture Mary Anne's father gave us before we came, about strangers and men trying to take advantage of young girls and sexual assault. I was surprised he didn't pull out an educational film.

"What's that accent, American?" he asked.

"Yeah. We're here on holiday."

"Well how about that! We're in a band and our lead singer's American," he smiled. "We're actually heading to the Baronga Pub tonight, to play a gig. Are we on the right road?"

"No," said Kristy, "you're heading in totally the wrong direction. Go back along this road until you reach the vineyard, turn left. You can't miss it."

"Dammit, Jake," I heard another voice say. "I told you we should have turned back there." The owner of the voice reached across the van, revealing his face. Oh my lord. That face. It was a face artist's crave, that people write songs about. Dark, messy brown hair, perfectly defined cheekbones, piercing green eyes…He was beautiful, in the truest sense of the word. I gasped, taken aback. I saw Mary Anne, who had stepped off the hood of the car and was standing beside me, staring intently at the man, and I found myself doing the same.

"Left, did you say?" he asked no one in particular.

"Left," Kristy replied matter of factly. Trust Kristy to be the only one of us not totally blown away by the most beautiful man on the planet. Said beautiful man groaned, closed his eyes. When he opened them, they fell to rest on Mary Anne. She blushed, embarrassed that she had been caught staring, but he didn't look away until she returned his gaze. He was looking at her with a curiosity in his eyes. She did look beautiful, like a delicate angel. I clutched at the hem of my skirt, suddenly feeling overdressed and embarrassed. He never once smiled, enough was said by that look. I was hopelessly, completely jealous.

"Guess it's just not our lucky day," Jake said, smiling at me. I tried to smile back. "We'd best be off then. Places to go, people to see! Hey," he said, rummaging around in the van, "take this. Come and see us tonight!" He thrust a flyer out of the window and into my hands. I held onto it, not trusting myself to speak. He winked at me, revved the engine, turned the van and began to drive back the way they had come.

The wombat was lying on the side of the road, still wrapped in Mary Anne's sweater, but we didn't care anymore. Mary Anne and I stood, close but not touching, watching as the van roared off into the distance, leaving a trail of dust behind it. I looked down at the flyer Jake had given me. A round symbol, sun and mountains, with the words wrapped around it: _Gloria and the Mountain._


	3. Chapter 3 Mary Anne

We arrived at the Baronga Pub and surveyed our surroundings. The car park was full, and my heart soared to see a white van parked out the front. Our encounter with the band had taken me completely off guard. The man, in particular…the way he looked at me, there was such intensity, such sadness in his eyes. He was vulnerable, lonely, just like me. I wanted to know why he was so sad, what he was mourning.

We pushed our way into the smoky pub, and Claudia made a beeline for Olivier. She was on the prowl, that much was clear. She sidled up to him, ran her hand across his back and down his arm. He turned to her, smiled, whispered something in her ear and she giggled, pressing her body into his. He rested his hand on her hip, pulling her close. He whispered something to her again, she nodded, and together they began to make their way outside. She turned to me and winked as they passed. Sometimes, I wish I had half as much confidence as Claudia. She looked absolutely stunning – curves in all the right places, a face beautifully made up. She never doubts herself, she sees what she wants and she goes after it.

I watched them leave then turned back to face Kristy, but she had moved away. I saw her in the distance, arguing loudly with a man about what appeared to be a game of darts. Every one of my friends from middle school had changed in some way, but Kristy was still Kristy, and would always be Kristy. I loved that about her, the stability. It was something to hold onto.

I looked around, conscious all of a sudden that I was alone. I made my way to the bar, sat on a stool and felt my face flush. I was embarrassed to be here alone, to have no one to talk to. I was wearing white and felt like I stood out too much in the sea of black-clothed music lovers, like a little girl playing dress ups.

'What can I get you, love?' the barman asked me. I was old enough to drink in Australia, but hadn't yet had my first. I can't explain why exactly, except that I'm sure it had to do with what I had seen alcohol do to people, people I loved dearly, otherwise sane, ordinary people. I didn't trust myself enough.

'Um,' I muttered, 'can I just have an orange juice?' The barman nodded and seconds later returned with a tall, cold glass of juice. I thanked him and began fumbling around in purse to find the money to pay him. I couldn't get used to handling strange currencies, and it always took me a long time to find the correct coins.

'I'll get that,' a voice behind me said. I turned to look and saw Jake, the boy from the van. My face flushed an even brighter red.

'No, that's ok. I'm just trying to find the right coins.' I tried to sound firm.

'You guys helped us find our way here tonight. If it weren't for you, we'd probably be half way to Brisbane by now. It's the least I can do. Please.' He looked sincere. I nodded and he smiled brightly, sliding onto the stool beside me.

'I'm Jake,' he said, extending his right hand. I shook it.

'Mary Anne.'

'Nice to meet you, Mary Anne. I'm glad to see you here.' He looked around, curiosity etched into his face. 'Did you come alone, or…?'

'Oh no, I'm here with my friends, the one's you met. Kristy, she's the girl who gave you the directions, is about to start a brawl over there.' He looked over to where I was pointing and laughed.

'Blending in with the locals, they'll love that. What about your other friend? Is she…is she here as well?' I thought I saw a little colour creep to his cheeks.

'That's Claudia. Yes, she's here. She…she just met another friend, I think they're talking outside. It's pretty noisy in here.'

'Yes, yes it is,' he muttered. 'Claudia…that's a pretty name…'

I have only ever had one boyfriend in my life, but I could tell by looking at him that he was smitten with Claudia. His eyes were unfocused, a slight smile on his lips. I smiled to myself. I couldn't wait to tell Claudia!

'Anyway,' I said. 'Is your band from around here?'

He snapped back to attention. 'What? No, we're from Sydney originally. We're on what I guess you could call tour at the moment, playing random shows at little country pubs like this. Tomorrow morning we're heading to Perth though. We played there about three months back, and one of the bars asked us if we wanted to play every weekend this month. To be honest, gigs are hard to come by and money is pretty tight, so we jumped at the chance.'

'I've heard nice things about Perth,' I responded. 'My friends and I wanted to go there next.' He looked interested, and suddenly I was pouring out a slightly edited version of the past three years – our lives in Stoneybrook, our decision to travel, our adventures since.

'Wow,' he said when I had finished. 'I'd love to do something like that. Just pack up my things and leave. I guess I've never had the incentive – you know, the big event that makes you think "I just can't do this anymore". Things are pretty good for us here. What was your event?'

'Um…' I didn't know what to say. Jake was nice, but he was a stranger. We all had our reasons for wanting to travel. It was more than simply wanting to celebrate graduation, but they were intensely personal reasons. Kristy, Claudia and I barely spoke about them as it was, and we'd known each other forever.

'Mary Anne?' Jake interrupted my thoughts. 'I gotta go now, the band's on in 15 and Stefan will absolutely flip out if I'm too long out here. But it was really nice talking to you.'

'You too, Jake,' I said, breathing a sigh of relief. We smiled at each other and he began to walk off.

'Hey,' he called from the middle of the crowd. 'Maybe we can hang out after the show? I mean, the band and your friends. Only if you want to, of course.' He looked embarrassed, uncertain. I nodded, pleased that I had made a friend. That was usually Kristy or Claudia's job. I was proud of myself – maybe I had changed on this trip, even if it was only a little.

Kristy stomped over to me as Jake left. 'That ass,' she fumed. 'You should have heard what he said to me!'

'I thought you were fighting about darts?' I asked, confused.

'I'll tell you where I'd like to stick his stupid darts…' Kristy began, but I clamped my hand over her mouth, aware that she was causing a scene. People were looking at us with interest.

'Get yourself a drink, Kristy, and calm down.' Kristy breathed in deeply and ordered a beer, which she downed in record time. We sat together at the bar in silence, Kristy trying to hold her anger in and me just trying not to start her off again.

Claudia crept back in just as the lights were dimming. Her face was flushed, her hair slightly dishevelled. "Well," she said. "He certainly is an excellent kisser." I smiled and clasped her hand. Claudia had been so lonely for so long, I wanted for her to be happy.

The band began to play. An older man played the drums – he would have been 28, maybe even 30, and was the only one smiling. He had a kind, friendly face and a grin from ear to ear; he made eye contact with as many audience members as he could. Jake was on the bass, concentrating deeply, a look of surprise on his face every time his hair fell in his eyes even though it was inevitable. Occasionally he would raise his head and smirk, once at me but mostly at Claudia. Her eyes were otherwise engaged. At the front of the stage, commanding the attention of everyone in the room, was the man, the beautiful man – Stefan? He had his eyes closed and was playing the violin. He started softly, sweetly and the band backed him up, a soft rumbling sound. They built up the intensity of the song slowly, and there was something so sad, so painful about it that my heart ached. The man's eyes remained closed as the song built to a crescendo, a huge roar accompanied by the ferocious violin, an intensity I had rarely heard in music. I never once took my eyes off the man, who swayed with the music as if it inhabited his body. It was beautiful, breathtaking.

When the song finished, the man breathed heavily, as if he had just run a marathon. The crowd clapped lightly, not because they didn't like it, but because it didn't feel right to cheer and shout after such an emotional, heartfelt performance. That's what I felt, anyway.

"Thank you, ladies and gentleman," the drummer spoke into his microphone. "Now, please join me in welcoming our singer to the stage – the lovely, the beautiful – Ana!"

The crowd cheered as a woman staggered onto the stage, teetering on impossibly high heels. She was wearing a short black dress, made of lace, that made the most of her perky breasts and legs that seemed to go on for miles. In one hand she carried a cigarette; in the other, a guitar. She paused when she reached the front of the stage, turned to face the audience. "Thanks everybody," she purred into the microphone. Everything about her – from her skin-tight dress to her fishnet tights to her low gravelly voice – seemed to scream sex appeal. "I'm Ana, and we are Gloria and the Mountain."

The band began to play new song, and Ana was singing. Her voice was, quite simply, astounding. It had a vulnerability, but also a raw sexiness – two completely opposite qualities and yet, coming from her, it sounded perfect. I nudged Claudia, motioning that we move closer to the stage. I couldn't see her face, we were too far back.

Claudia and I pushed through the crowd, with Kristy tagging along behind us. We made our way to the front of the room and I was somewhat unfairly relieved to see she wasn't as put together as she seemed to be – her hair hung limply around her face, her eyes were bloodshot, she was swaying slightly. Suddenly, I heard Claudia gasp.

"Shit," Kristy muttered behind me. "Shit, shit, shit."

"What?" I said to Claudia. She just looked at me, speechless, before gesturing towards the stage, towards Ana. I looked at her more closely, wondering what it was I was missing. And then I saw it. The hair was less full, the eyes less bright, the body skinnier. But I knew her; even though it took me a moment to realise, it was unmistakably her.

"Oh my gosh," I whispered. "Stacey."


	4. Chapter 4 Stacey

Ana ran into the dressing room, a name the band gave every room they were given to warm up in, even if it was just an office as this one was. It sounded more professional. A cheap, garage band was given a manager's office, a storeroom, once even a spare guest bedroom. Bands that were going places, as Gloria and the Mountain undoubtedly were, only used dressing rooms.

Stefan and the band's drummer Rosco followed her in. Rosco looked concerned. He had assumed the role of 'father' to the band long ago and was constantly worried – that Jake was lonely, that Ana was too thin, that Stefan wasn't coping. He has his own family, a wife and two young children, but he spent most of his time on the road with the band these days. They were his family too, and he hated to see them hurt. 'Are you okay?' he asked Ana softly, leaning against the wall. She looked at him with what he thought were tears in her eyes, but she didn't respond.

Unlike Rosco, Stefan was outraged.

'What the hell was that about, Ana?' he yelled. 'We were amazing out there, the crowd loved us. Now when they think about tonight all they'll remember is how you ended it. We weren't even half way through our set!' Stefan was a professional, just like he wanted his band to be.

'Guys,' Ana breathed, 'I'm really sorry but we have got to get out of here.'

She began to tear around the dressing room picking up random pieces of equipment – a tambourine, a microphone stand, some masking tape. She looked ridiculous, her tiny body struggling under the weight. 'Where the hell is Alex?' she cried, looking manically around the small room, as if their manager was hiding underneath the desk or perhaps behind the curtains. 'He was supposed to be here half an hour ago. "Don't worry Ana," he says. "I'll be back to see you guys play". Bullshit! The one time he could probably be useful and he fucking blows it. How are we supposed to get out of here if he doesn't show up? Someone has to call him. Move it, Jacob!'

Jake, who had just entered the dressing room, did a pirouette as Ana barrelled past him and out into the hallway, dropping her purse as she ran. He looked at Rosco and cocked his head. At any other time Rosco would have laughed at the look on Jake's face, but he knew better than to make jokes when Ana was in one of her moods. Better to keep your head down and do as she says, he thought as he quietly packed away his own equipment.

'What,' Jake asked, 'was that about?'

'Dunno,' Rosco replied. 'Something happened to her out there. She wants to leave, now.'

'What?' Jacob looked confused. 'We haven't even been paid yet! Plus, I kind of wanted to hang around tonight, have a beer maybe. I got talking to one of those American girls, the ones that gave us directions. She said they might have a drink with us after the show.'

Rosco felt sorry for Jake. He was such a nice kid. He was very witty and for the most part very confident. Everyone who met him loved him almost instantly, this cocky kid with a ready smile. But he was such a dreamer, and that sometimes got him into trouble. Rosco tried to look out for him; when they were in Sydney, Jake would have dinner with his family at least twice a week. His wife, Roxy, always said she was worried it would simply slip Jake's mind that he needed to eat. No one really knew where Jake came from, or where he went at night after band rehearsal, or dinner at Rosco's, or drinks at a local bar. Lately he had taken to staying over at the house Stefan, Alex and Ana shared so Rosco didn't suppose it mattered very much. He didn't like to pry.

It was obvious that Jake liked that girl, the one with the killer body. Rosco had thought she was gorgeous but felt intimidated by her. He was always intimidated by beautiful women, he knew when they were out of his league. Jake, on the other hand, had no such insight. He'd had a dreamy look on his face the entire night, and Rosco knew it had begun. Jake was always falling in love, and inevitably his heart was always breaking. He would bowl girls over with his good looks and easy charm, but he was a sweet kid and for many this meant he could be treated like a doormat. It would have been nice to see things work out for him just once.

'Sorry mate.' Rosco winked at his friend. 'You know what she's like.'

'Oh, I know what she's like.' Jake's face had clouded over, but he stomped around the room packing up the remaining equipment nonetheless.

Ana raced back into the room. 'Put your stuff by the back door,' she said breathlessly. 'When Alex gets here we can just load it into the van and go.' She stopped still. 'Where the hell is he? Where's my phone? Dammit, where's my purse?' She spun around, surveying the room. Stefan, who was the only member of the band not doing as he was told, held her purse up.

'You dropped it,' he said smugly, handing it over. 'What's going on, Ana? We haven't been paid yet. God knows I need a drink. We're not going anywhere.'

She faced him, her eyes penetrating his, angry. Although Stefan was tall, in her heels she reached to just above his shoulders. He really was a beautiful man. Sometimes she would forget and then at moments like these it would hit her like a steam train, his beauty and his anger and his vulnerability. Her eyes softened. She hated when he told her what to do, but she knew how to handle men. She knew how to make them listen.

'Come on, Stef,' she said, moving towards him. 'Do this for me, just this once.' Her voice was low and she reached her hand around to the small of his back, pressing herself up close. She whispered something in his ear but he pushed her away, a look of disgust on his face.

'Ana, that's not going to work. Unless you tell us why we need to leave so urgently, we're staying.' He crossed his arms childishly and she glared at him. She hated everything about Stefan – the way he thought he knew what was best for her, the patronising way he spoke to her, the way girls threw themselves at him every night on tour. Most of all she hated how he was able to resist her, because despite everything he did and said to make her hate him, she wanted him more than anything else in the world. He was beautiful and complicated and full of this amazing passion for music and the band and for life in general. She wished their relationship as pure and uncomplicated as his relationship to his music - simple, bright and full of promise.

She decided to change her tactics. Even if Stefan had a heart of stone, she knew she could wrap Rosco and Jacob around her little finger.

'Guys, please,' she said, looking both of them in the eye. 'I know you want to stay. Under any other circumstances I would too. But I'm not feeling great. I think it was maybe something I ate. All I want to do is go to the hotel and sleep. You understand that, don't you?' She coughed, although she wasn't sure how that proved she had food poisoning. It seemed to work. Jacob gave her a reassuring smile and Rosco said, 'if the lady's sick…' and looked at Stefan.

'I don't believe it!' Stefan cried. 'You don't really believe she's sick, do you? She's eaten the same food as us for the last month. She's been fine all day. Something happened out there that she doesn't want anyone to know about. What's the matter, Ana? Who's waiting for you out there? Ex-boyfriend? Drug dealer?' He was mocking her, and she hated him more.

'Shut up, you bastard,' she hissed. 'I'm going to call Alex, he's going to pick us up, we're going to the hotel.' She searched around in her purse for her phone but just as she found it, the door to the dressing room opened and Alex walked in.

'Gloria!' he cried, flashing his toothy smile. 'How was it?' He wrapped an arm around Ana's shoulders possessively and glanced around the room. He liked to call himself their manager, and took more than a manager's cut out of the money they received for every show, but in reality it was Stefan and Jake who did most of the work. They booked the shows, posted advertising bills around the city and organised band rehearsals. Alex occasionally found them gigs, mostly by accident, at pubs he got drunk in. Jake thought he was sleazy, Rosco didn't trust him and Stefan couldn't stand him. They only kept him around for Ana's sake. What she saw in him, no one knew.

'Where _were _you?' Ana asked him.

He kissed her on the head. 'I was just going to take the van to get some petrol, right? So I did and I thought I was on the right road back but I ended up about 10ks north. It was only because I got out to have a drink and got talking to a guy that I realised I was lost.'

Ana didn't believe him. The night before they had stayed at a motel in a town where they had played a gig; it was about 40ks from Baronga. She had seen him in the crowd, flirting with a girl who could have been eighteen at most. She saw him hand her his number, saw him winking and her giggling. He had only been gone for half an hour, but he had been with her, of that there was no doubt. He was confident, loud, overly affectionate. He was atoning for what he had done.

'What about our pay?' Stefan asked. He rarely talked to Alex, unless it was about band matters. He didn't even like to be in the same room as him, if he could help it.

'Got it right here,' he said, patting his jeans pocket. 'Safe and sound.'

'See?'Ana cried. 'Now we can go!'

'Go?' Alex said, pulling her closer. 'I just got here! Party's just getting started!'

'Ana is desperate to leave,' Stefan said. 'She won't tell us why.'

'Please.' She was not above begging. 'Don't start that again. Isn't it enough that I want to go? I thought you guys were my friends. Friends don't always need to know why.'

'Look,' Rosco said, always the diplomat. 'If you don't feel well, how about you stay here, or go and have a sleep in the van? We'll have a drink and we can all leave in an hour or so.'

Ana didn't want to hang around longer than she had to, but she didn't want to tell her friends the real reason she wanted to leave either. They knew nothing of her past – nothing that was true, anyway. So she caved in, and agreed to go and sit in the van. She would lock the doors.

Once she was alone in the darkness of the van, Ana began to cry. She had thought she was safe here. She had made a new life for herself, with good friends and a career that might be taking off. It was a life that she loved, and she was terrified it was going to be taken away from her.

She didn't know where they had come from, what they were even doing in Australia. How did they know where to find her? It had been over two years since she had seen them last, and more than three since they had been in the same room together. It had been eerie, seeing them standing in the crowd like that. Mary Anne had looked like she was about to cry. Kristy looked stunned, she was probably thinking about what she could write about the night in the Baby Sitters Club Mystery Notebook: "Dear Diary, we thought Stacey was dead but today we found her." It was Claudia's face that had scared her the most. It was blank, devoid of emotion, as though she couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry or scream and instead settled on nothing.

She sat huddled in the van, a blanket pulled tightly around her shoulders. She was shivering, but not because she felt cold. She loved her new friends like she had once loved her old friends, and she couldn't bear the thought of losing them too. But what else could they do but leave if they knew who she had once been, the things she had done?

After an hour spent alone in the darkness, there was a knock on the van's window. 'Hey!' she heard Rosco cry. 'Open up!' Ana breathed a sigh of relief. _Finally, _she thought. She climbed out of her makeshift bed and went to unlock the door. She pushed it open and Rosco climbed in, followed by Alex. They were laughing and looked happy. _Lucky them_, Stacey thought to herself.

'Did you have a good time?' she asked. 'Where are Stef and Jacob?'

'They're coming,' Rosco answered. 'We're giving some friends a lift back to the hostel.'

'Friends?' Ana was confused. They didn't know anyone in Baronga.

'Some people we met tonight,' Rosco explained. 'Don't worry, we're just giving them a ride. Once we've dropped them off we're going straight to the hotel.'

Ana smiled sleepily. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and forget this night ever happened. Tomorrow they would leave and she could look forward to the future. They would have to change the name of the band, of course, she didn't want anyone being able to trace her. But that was a minor detail, one she was sure she could convince the others to agree on.

Alex pulled her onto the couch next to him and moved to kiss her. She kissed him halfheartedly, then curled up under his arm. He groaned and she knew that had frustrated him, but she wasn't in the mood. She closed her eyes and began to nap.

She had only been asleep for a few minutes when she heard voices outside of the van. Disoriented, she looked around. Alex was asleep next to her, and Rosco was on the floor, a map spread out in front of him. The door flung open and Jacob and Stefan entered the van. Stefan nodded curtly at her and she knew he was still angry with her. She would have to work hard to make it up to him. She had been in this position before. She asked, 'where are your friends?'

'Coming,' Jacob said happily. Ana wondered why he was in such a good mood._ Probably some girl, _she thought. Jacob was very laid back and he annoyed her at times, especially when they were about to leave for a gig and he would wander into the room with a lazy look on his face asking if anyone had seen his shoes. But she loved him like a brother, and she knew that he loved her too. She wanted for him to be happy, and she hated to see the way girls treated him. Sometimes she thought her life would be easier if she loved Jacob like she loved Stefan, but it probably wouldn't be. She would only end up hurting him, and hating herself more than she already did.

There was another knock on the window. Jacob jumped up, over-eager, to open the door. He smiled at the person waiting outside, said, 'come in' and moved back to make way. Ana didn't really care to meet these supposed friends, they were probably just fans who wanted a good story to tell. She leaned her head against Alex's shoulder and closed her eyes. She really was very tired.

'Ana, I want you to meet our new friends,' Jacob said proudly. Inwardly, Ana groaned, but she sensed this was important to him and resolved to make an effort. She opened her eyes.

'Hi, Stacey,' one of Jacob's new friends said, her voice shaking uncharacteristically. Another stood silently beside her, looking as though she was on the verge of tears. The third stood a little behind, rage and hatred in her eyes.

Rosco said, 'who's Stacey?'

Jacob said, 'have you met before?'

Stefan looked at her curiously, one eyebrow raised.

Ana fainted.


	5. Chapter 5 Claudia

_**A/N **I hope you are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it. I would really appreciate if_ _those of you who are reading this left a comment, letting me know what you like/didn't like/would like to see so that I can improve, and so I know people are reading! Thanks to all who have so far._

Stacey had seen us. Her eyes had flickered open during the last chorus of the song and she had looked straight at me, a hint of disbelief crossing her face.

Then she ran.

Just dropped her microphone and ran off the stage. The rest of the band members looked at one another, confused, before the drummer spoke to the crowd, 'Seems we have a few technical difficulties, you guys have been great.' The band filed off of the stage to the jeers and taunts from the locals who had up until that point been enjoying the show immensely.

'Oh my lord,' I said under my breath. 'I don't believe it.' I had honestly believed that I would never see Anastasia McGill again in my life. Certainly, I had never expected to see her fronting an indie/folk band in a small Australian town.

'I think I'm going to be sick.' I meant it. My knees buckled and I thought I was going to fall but Kristy, dependable Kristy, managed to grab onto my arm and haul me back into an upright position. She didn't, however, let go.

'Let's go to the bathroom,' she said and, with Mary Anne holding onto my other arm, we hobbled towards the bathroom at the back of the pub.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. All of the blood had drained from my face. No wonder Stacey looked like she had seen a ghost.

I felt the same way.

'What the hell just happened out there?' Kristy asked. She was pacing up and down the narrow bathroom, something she often did when nervous, excited, upset. Mary Anne was leaning quietly against the wall, tears silently streaming down her face. I wanted to comfort her, but didn't trust myself to not start bawling either.

When Stacey had left – run away – we had some vague idea where she had gone. Her dad had been like a madman, calling her friends' houses (by this stage he knew better than to call us first. He spoke to us as a last resort, not really expecting her to be there but doing so for the sake of completeness), the hospitals and finally the police. It didn't take them long to find out she had used her passport, had boarded and disembarked from a Qantas flight that landed in Sydney. The police contacted the Australian authorities and both made half hearted attempts to find her, but there was nothing they could really do. She was old enough to make her own choices, despite her dad's protests that she was just a child. He was kidding himself – Stacey hadn't been a child for many years. He made a trip to Sydney himself but of course didn't find her. What he expected, I don't know, but he came back a broken man. He and Stacey had never been particularly close, and in the last few months before she left they were barely speaking, but I knew he loved her. The last time we saw him before we started our own travels he had made us promise to keep a look out for her. I wanted to say, 'she left us without a word, I don't want to see her ever again,' but instead I just said, 'I promise'.

We all reacted to the news of Stacey's disappearance in different ways. Mary Anne was devastated. She was going through a really bad time when we found out, for Stacey and non-Stacey related reasons, and the news that Stacey had gone tipped her over the edge. She rarely left her bedroom except to attend school, and she cried all the time. She cried when we ran into Pete Black, Stacey's ex-boyfriend. She cried when Mary Poppins came on TV, Stacey's favourite movie. She cried every time we went to Math class, which had been Stacey's favourite class. I think she felt guilty, about not having been able to help her. I thought she was crazy – after everything Stacey had done to her, she owed her nothing. But she would still call me in the middle of the night hardly able to breathe, having had a dream that they found Stacey's body in some depressing hotel room in the outskirts of Sydney. Kristy and I would rush over to her house and just sit holding her, trying to convince her that Stacey was fine even though we had no reason to believe it.

Kristy was confused. She didn't understand how someone could just leave everything – family, friends, school – without a second thought. Kristy was a firm believer in dealing with your problems, forgetting of course that she had been guilty of the opposite at several points in her life. She had a much more 'live and let live' attitude towards the whole situation. 'If Stacey wanted to leave, there's nothing we could have done to stop her. She's probably having an amazing time, and more power to her', she often said. Of course she was worried something terrible had happened to her, but if Stacey had left of her own free will, which it appeared she had, then who were we to deny her the chance to be happy?

I wished I had reacted like Kristy, able to forgive Stacey so easily. I would even have preferred to be Mary Anne – she was hopelessly worried, but if she had walked back into our lives at any time, she would have embraced her with open arms. Later they would have been angry, asked her how she could have done everything she had. Mary Anne in particular had so many reasons to hate her and I think she still did, a little bit. But she could remember the good times we had with Stacey, back when we were friends, and she could forgive. She wanted to understand. I couldn't. I couldn't then, and I certainly couldn't now.

I hated her.

Stacey and I hadn't been friends for a year before she disappeared. It was her choice, of course, or at least her fault. But I hated her for not coming to me with whatever it was that was troubling her. She could have talked to me, we could have worked things out, I would have been there for her. Instead, she left without a word, left us to think that she was dead. How dare she act as if everything we had been through meant nothing, as though I had done anything other than be a good friend to her while I watched her put myself and everyone else around her through so much? What she did to Mary Anne, to me…

'We have to go,' I said to my friends.

'Go?' Kristy was confused.

'Yes, go. Leave. Depart. Get the hell out of here.' I turned on the rusty tap and the cold water rush over my hands. I splashed my face with the water, trying to stop the simmering rage in the pit of my stomach from boiling over.

'Claudia,' Mary Anne said gently. 'We can't go. Not now.'

'Why not?' I yelled. 'We're young, free, single. We have nothing to tie us here. Let's just jump in the car and drive. Who cares where we end up?' I realised how ridiculous I sounded, but the urge to leave was overpowering.

'I understand how you feel, Claudia,' Kristy said. 'I know you think I'm totally fine with what Stacey did, but I'm not, not really. I accept her need to get out of Stoneybrook, but that doesn't mean I'm not angry at her for what she did to you guys, for how she treated all of us. But we need answers. You deserve answers.'

'I don't want answers, Kristy. I don't want anything from her.' I felt like a child throwing a tantrum.

'Maybe not now,' Mary Anne interrupted, 'but one day you will. Imagine eventually going back to Stoneybrook _knowing _that Stacey was here and that we had a chance to talk to her, but we did nothing about it. What would we tell her father?'

'We'd tell him that his daughter is alive. That's enough.'

'No it's not! He's her father, we were her best friends. Whatever she's done to us we still care about her, even if you don't feel like it right now.' I rarely saw Mary Anne so passionate.

'Of course I still care about her,' I cried, surprising myself. 'But I know all I need to know. You're forgetting, Mary Anne, that she _doesn't want us. _She didn't bother telling us when she left, what makes you think she'd want to talk to us now?'

'I'm sure she would,' Mary Anne said softly, but she sounded uncertain.

'She ran when she saw us. Hardly welcoming behaviour, is it? She doesn't want us here. They've probably left already.' I was gaining momentum.

'Maybe you're right, Claud,' Kristy said, looking puzzled.

'Of course I am,' I said. 'I know you want to talk to her and I don't want to stop you if that's what you really want, but think about how you'd feel if you tried and she wanted nothing to do with you. It would be worse than having said nothing at all.'

Mary Anne began to cry again, and I put my arm around her. Kristy looked as though she was struggling – she didn't know whether to agree with me or stick with her gut feeling. But, finally, she joined Mary Anne and I in a hug and we stood together for a while, not saying anything.

Eventually I broke free from my friends. 'We need to go,' I said, and they nodded. We were all tired, physically and emotionally. We left the bathroom and began to make our way towards the entrance of the pub. The crowd had begun to disperse and there was only a handful of people left. I checked to make sure none of the band members were still around, and was thankful that they weren't.

A hand grabbed my arm. I spun around to see Olivier.

'Hello, Claudia,' he said. 'We are thinking of going to this party, a girl we know is hosting it. Would you like to come with me?'

'Um, I can't really. Thanks anyway.'

'Why not?' He looked curiously at Mary Anne, at her bloodshot eyes.

'Look, she said she can't, what part of that didn't you understand?' Kristy is a short woman, but something about her screams 'Don't mess with me'. Olivier understood this and backed off, muttering something under his breath. At any other time I would have been disappointed, embarrassed by Kristy. Now, I was just relieved.

'Claud, I know you want to go but do you mind if we get a beer? I'm dying for one.' I made a face, but nodded. I could do with something strong too. Mary Anne would drive us home.

We sat at the bar and ordered some drinks. I sat and stared into mine, not saying anything. Mary Anne and Kristy did the same. When we finished, Kristy said, 'let's go'.

'Mary Anne!' I heard a voice call across the room. Kristy groaned, and I knew how she felt. Were we condemned to spend the rest of our lives inside this pub? The three of us turned and saw Jake, the bass player in the band, barging towards us, a wide smile on his face.

'Let's just go,' I said. 'Maybe he'll think we didn't hear.' Would we never get to leave? Were we doomed to spend the rest of our lives within the confines of these four walls, continuously running into people I had no desire to speak to?

'Claudia!' Mary Anne looked shocked. 'He's a nice guy. We can give him five minutes before we leave. I think he just wants to talk to you. I don't want to be rude.' I almost laughed. Trust Mary Anne to think about manners at a time like this.

'Besides,' Kristy said, curiosity getting the better of her, 'he can probably tell us a little about Stacey…I mean, _Ana_.'

'Well, I don't want to talk to him. I can't do this. I can't pretend everything is okay when clearly it isn't.' I sounded childish, but I didn't care.

'Five minutes,' Mary Anne whispered.

Jake was cute, in a strange way. He had thick, dark rimmed glasses and a shock of messy brown hair – his smile was sincere and bright. I've heard of people being described as having 'honest' faces, and I think they were talking about Jake. He didn't look as though anything troubled him, or that he was hiding anything from the rest of the world. The type to wear his heart on his sleeve, I thought. He was wearing a fitted plaid shirt, torn jeans and scuffed Converse sneakers.

'You guys aren't leaving, are you?' he said, plonking himself on the barstool next to me. 'Hi Kristy. Hi Claudia.' He smiled at me shyly, expectantly.

All I wanted to do was get out of there, but I smiled weakly.

'Sorry about the wait! I thought you would definitely be gone by now. I'm really glad that I caught you, actually. I know that was kind of a weird ending to the show – our singer Ana has some…she's kind of highly strung. But I wanted to know what you thought, before we all ran off the stage. About the band, I mean. Our music.'

'It was amazing,' Kristy replied. 'You have a really unique sound.'

'That's Stefan's doing,' Jake said proudly. 'The band was his idea, and we kind of go along according to his vision.'

'And your singer,' Kristy continued, 'has a pretty good voice too.' When we were younger, the Baby Sitters Club used to think of ourselves as amateur detectives and I guess we were pretty good at it – we solved some minor crimes around town. I could see Kristy was enjoying this, in spite of herself.

'Yeah, Ana's amazing. Do you believe she never knew she could sing? Until about a year ago she was just waitressing in Sydney. That's where Stef found her, singing as she cleaned up after her shift. He saw something that she didn't know she had, I guess. It worked out really well for all of us.'

'Did you say she was American? How did she come to be here?'

'Oh, she moved out here with her parents years ago. They went back to America but she stayed. Lucky for us, hey?' I heard Mary Anne gasp and I knew exactly what she was feeling. It was one thing for Stacey to run away without a word, but an entirely different thing for her to deny her past, deny that we ever existed.

At that moment, the other members of the band walked over to us, along with a man I had never seen before. He had wavy blonde hair and a cocky attitude – he looked like he should be selling used cars. Jake introduced him to us as Alex, and then introduced us to Rosco and Stefan. Rosco grinned broadly and Alex winked, looking me up and down approvingly. I shuddered, there was something so sleazy, so demeaning about it. Stefan stood a distance away, stony faced.

Rosco and Jake started making small talk, about our travels and the band. Kristy and Mary Anne played along but I couldn't be bothered. Alex began downing beers at an extreme rate and Stefan sat apart from the rest of us, watching. Mary Anne mostly, I noted and felt my face flush with what I thought was jealousy. They began to speak about Stacey, Rosco and Jake relaying all the lies she had told them about her past. At least she had been honest in telling them she was from New York. She was always proud of that fact, thought it made her more sophisticated.

Suddenly, I couldn't take it any longer. 'I'm sorry. We have to go'. I stood up and began to run for the entrance, with Kristy and Mary Anne muttering apologies before chasing after me. I didn't stop until I reached the car and, embarrassed, I realised I didn't have the keys. I was at Kristy's mercy.

Mary Anne and Kristy pulled up beside me, panting to catch their breath. 'Claudia,' Kristy said. 'If you wanted to go, you should have just said. I wasn't really counting on running a marathon tonight.' A smile crept unwillingly to my lips.

'Can we please just go, Kristy?'

'Already on it,' she said, stepping into the driver's seat. Mary Anne climbed in next to her and I took the back seat. Kristy turned the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

She tried again, but nothing happened. 'Dammit!' she cried. 'Mr Bertinelli told me this car was a piece of crap, but I thought it would at least last us until we got home tonight.' She got out of the car and lifted the hood, but Kristy knows as much about mechanics as I do. She returned to the car.

'Maybe it was the wombat. Karma for our crappy burial. What are we going to do?'

Mary Anne looked frightened. 'We can't walk. My father would kill me if he knew I was wandering along a deserted highway at midnight.'

'If some homicidal maniac didn't kill you first.'

'Kristy!'

'What? It's true!'

I peered through the window of the car. 'Did you guys notice that there's no one here anymore?' Mary Anne and Kristy looked and saw what I did – a deserted parking lot. 'So we can't exactly ask for a ride.' The only person left was the manager of the pub, and Kristy had managed to offend him the week before with an ill-timed joke about sheep, and they'd gotten into a huge screaming match. He wouldn't help us. We were lucky he even let us come back to the pub, under strict instructions to stay out of his way – I'd be surprised if he hadn't instructed his staff to spit in our drinks.

'I know one place we can get a ride,' Kristy said.

'No. No, no, no. I know what you're thinking and the answer's no, Kristy.'

'Come on, Claud! Jake would give us a ride, you know he would.'

'I am not,' I said slowly, 'getting a ride to the hostel with Stacey's friends. We're going to have to sleep in the car tonight, and we can walk back in the morning. Your dad wouldn't object to a daytime stroll, Mary Anne?' She rolled her eyes.

'Claudia, I am only agreeing to this because you're my friend. I would not sleep in a car for anyone but you or Mary Anne.' Kristy was defeated. We took some towels we had in the trunk of the car and put them up against the windows to avoid being noticed. We all tried our best to get comfortable – Kristy laying upright in the driver's seat, Mary Anne curled up beside her. I tried to stretch out along the back seat but I was too tall, so I ended up mimicking Kristy's position. It was horrendously uncomfortable, but no one said a word. Mary Anne and Kristy were trying to be supportive. I felt guilty for making them spend the night in a rusty old car.

We rested – well, tried to rest – in silence for about twenty minutes when we heard a tapping sound on the outside of the car. Mary Anne shrieked and the three of us sat bolt upright. We couldn't see a thing outside.

'What was that?' she asked, terror in her voice.

'Maybe we should have walked?' Kristy said, equally scared.

'Shhhh,' I hissed. 'It was probably just the wind.'

The tapping noise sounded again, and a voice said, 'hello?' This time we all shrieked.

'Who's out there?' Kristy yelled. 'I have to warn you I have…I have a gun.' Of course, she had no such thing. But I was impressed with how certain she sounded.

'Hey, it's just me. Jake.' I breathed a sigh of relief and Kristy pulled the towel off her window. She rolled down the window and Jake stuck his head in. 'Don't shoot, I come in peace.' He grinned.

Kristy looked at him angrily. 'We thought you were an axe murderer.'

'Hmmm,' he said thoughtfully. 'I may butcher the odd song on my bass, but as far as pretty girls go you're safe with me.'

'Ha ha.'

Getting Kristy Thomas to apologise is like drawing blood from a stone. So I said it for her. 'Sorry.'

Jake smiled at me, pleased. 'No worries. What are you girls doing out here? I may be wrong but that car doesn't look entirely comfortable.'

'It's broken.' I had graduated onto sentences.

'Oh,' Jake said. 'Well, I know nothing about cars and I don't know anyone who does. But I'm happy to give you a lift back to your hotel. If you want.'

'Oh no,' I said. 'Please, we're fine here. We don't want to be any trouble.'

'No trouble!'

'No, really,' Kristy interrupted. 'We're okay here. Your singer…well, she mightn't appreciate us barging in like this. It's fine.'

'We can have this fight all night, but I'd rather not if it's all the same to you. Ana's cool, she's sleeping in the van. She probably took a sleeping pill, she won't even know you're there.' He paused. 'Look. Talk it over and meet me inside if you change your mind. We're leaving in fifteen. I really would like to help you guys out, if I can.' He smiled and walked back inside.

'If she's sleeping, Claud…' Kristy's mind was made up.

'But what if she wakes up?'

'Claudia, five minutes ago we were all convinced we were about to be murdered. I don't know about you, but I won't get a single minute of sleep if we stay here. And after the night we've had, all I want to do is fall unconscious for a few hours.'

I thought about what she said. I wanted to forget too. And if Stacey was asleep…

'Alright.'

We made our way inside. Jake's face lit up when he saw us. 'I see my offer was too good to refuse.'

'Well, if it's not too much trouble…'

'It's a pleasure, ladies. Think of it as us doing our part for US-Australian relations'. Rosco got up from the barstool and looked towards the rear entrance to the pub. 'I'm beat. I think I'll go back to the van.' Alex stood up, muttering something about wanting to check up on Ana. Stacey. The two of them left, Rosco making Jake promise that he wouldn't be longer than ten minutes.

Kristy sat down by Stefan and began asking him about how he marketed the band. He answered her questions with an amused look on his face, as though he had never come across someone quite like Kristy. I could believe that. She started telling him about the Baby Sitters Club – I cringed – and how we marketed it. I was surprised she didn't ask him to write up a 5 year advertising plan then and there. Mary Anne excused herself to the bathroom, and I was left alone with Jake.

'So Claudia,' he said, 'what is it that you do when you're not chatting to delightful young men in the scummiest pub in Australia?'

'Well.' I had to think about it. 'I like to make art. I paint, draw, sculpt…' My voice trailed off. Art had become a bit of a sore point for me.

'What do you draw?'

'Oh everything. Buildings, random objects, sometimes people.'

'Would you draw me?'

'What, now? With what?'

As quick as lightning, Jake had pulled a pencil out of his pocket and had handed both it and a white napkin to me. 'It's hardly quality, but it will have to do.'

I looked at him, feeling confused. Part of me wanted to sit alone, think about Stacey and everything that had happened tonight. Another part of me just wanted to forget.

'Ok,' I said. 'Sit still, no sudden movements, actually no movements at all.' Jake struck what I guess he thought was an attractive pose and I laughed. 'You don't need to pout your lips like that! And flaring your nostrils…never a good idea.'

'Hey! I happen to think flared nostrils are very attractive.' He raised an eyebrow and flared them again. 'Gives one a horse like quality, no?'

'Did you just admit to thinking horses are attractive?'

'Absolutely. It's the New Zealanders that are into sheep.'

'Oh my lord,' I laughed. 'Just…just act natural.' He relaxed, and I began to draw, my pencil deftly sweeping across the napkin. I hadn't painted or drawn properly since before we left Stoneybrook and I felt a bit rusty, but I kept working and suddenly I had a very rough, very hastily done sketch that resembled my subject. I was pleased with myself, and handed the napkin to Jake.

'Wow, Claudia,' he said, looking up at me. 'This is really good. Sure, I am way more handsome in real life, but I guess such perfection is hard to capture in five minutes. Don't worry, I forgive you.'

'Gee, thanks,' I said. 'Modest and forgiving, is there no limit to your perfection?'

'Sometimes I say stupid things, that horses are attractive for example. But you're right, other than that I'm pretty much ideal. It's hard, being me,' he sighed. 'Seriously though, this is amazing. If this is what you can do in ten minutes, I can't imagine what your real artwork looks like.'

'I'm glad you like it.' And I was, truly glad. This was the first time I had been encouraged about my art in a long time. We smiled at each other and for a second I was sorry we couldn't be friends, that we would never see each other again. But then I remembered why that was, which got me thinking about Stacey, and I shut down again. 'I think it's been ten minutes,' I said quietly. Jake looked disappointed, as if he had wanted to continue our conversation, but simply shrugged and called to Stefan that we were leaving. Kristy, Mary Anne (who had by that time returned) and I followed them through the pub and outside to where their van was parked. Jake knocked on the door and he and Stefan entered, holding the door open for us.

I climbed into the van behind Kristy and Mary Anne and surveyed my surroundings. Rosco was on the floor, reading what looked like a map. Alex was asleep on a tiny sofa and next to him…Stacey. She was asleep, but my entire body froze. This was too close, I couldn't stay here. I pulled away and was about to jump out, run and run and run and never look back, but Mary Anne grabbed my hand. _She's asleep, _I told myself. This was nothing to worry about.

'Ana, I want you to meet our new friends.' Jake's words hit me hard. What was he doing? Why didn't he just let her sleep? I wanted to yell at him, scream, 'don't you know who this is? She's not Ana, she's Stacey McGill, she used to be my best friend. If you knew her, you would hate her as much as I do!' But I didn't. I gritted my teeth and stared straight at her. Maybe Kristy was right. Maybe I had to face this.

Her eyes flickered open.

'Hi Stacey,' Kristy said softly.

I looked at her. She was a shell of her former self, despite her caked on makeup and beautiful dress. Her eyes didn't shine brightly like they used to. Suddenly, I was consumed by rage. She ruined her own life, and the lives of her three best friends in the process, left us to think she's dead, and when we finally came across each other again she didn't bother with explanations, no apologies. She sat in some van for an hour and apparently had a blissful sleep. At that moment I hated her, not only for what she had done but for failing to feel badly for it.

Rosco said, 'who's Stacey?'

Jacob said, 'have you met before?'

Stefan looked at Stacey curiously, one eyebrow raised.

Stacey fainted.


	6. Chapter 6 Flashback

_**A/N:**__ Sorry for the delay in posting the next chapter. Things have been very busy for me but hopefully I'll get back to posting more regularly from now on. Enjoy!_

**THREE YEARS EARLIER**

It was a warm summer's day, they expected it to be one of the last that year. Stacey, Kristy, Mary Anne and Claudia were making the most of it, reclining lazily on deck chairs in Stacey's backyard.

'Five years from now,' Mary Anne said, 'what do you think we'll be doing?' She was wearing denim cut-offs and a large baggy white shirt, topped off with a wide brimmed straw hat. She was jealous of Stacey and Claudia in their bikinis, skin perfectly bronzed, but she knew if she didn't cover up she would be a tomato by 4 o'clock. Kristy, of course, looked as though she had just run a marathon, and was wearing her gym shorts and an aged T-shirt.

'Finished school for one thing,' Claudia replied, before taking a huge bite of a Snickers bar and chewing on it thoughtfully. 'You'll probably be married.'

'Married?' Mary Anne's face turned red. 'Who would I marry?'

'Are you kidding, Mary Anne?' Kristy said, laughing at – she preferred to think it was _with_ – her best friend. 'Everyone knows you and Logan will be married by the time you're 21. First baby by 23, a set of twins at 25... It's set in stone. It's fate.'

Mary Anne blushed an even brighter red. She and Logan had been dating for years, longer than anyone she knew, but the thought of marrying him scared her. Mostly, she thought it was because she wasn't ready. She couldn't marry _anyone, _she was so young. However, lately Logan had been...different. Mary Anne wanted to stay a virgin until she was married, or at least until she was out of high school and knew what she really wanted. Logan had always accepted that; he even told her he admired her commitment to something she obviously believed in.

But recently he had started to bring up sex in every conversation they had. How much he wanted it, why she didn't want it, what it was doing to him to have to wait. Mary Anne had almost given in to his pressure two weeks earlier, allowing him to remove her shirt while they made out on his bed, his parents, Kerry and Hunter watching television down the hall. But she had changed her mind. 'Not like this,' she had said. 'I want my first time to be special.' She knew it was clichéd, but it was honestly how she felt. She expected Logan to respect that. Instead, he had pinned her arms to the bed, called her a tease, and a hundred other names in hushed tones so that his parents wouldn't hear

He had scared her then, and she hadn't been able to shake that feeling. Since that time he had developed two different personalities, or so it seemed. One was kind, loving, almost to the point of excess. The other was quick to insult her at every opportunity, embarrassed her in front of his friends, and once she thought he was going to hit her.

She hadn't told her friends; she didn't want to worry them.

'Oh I don't know,' she said, hoping to change the subject. 'I want to go to college first.'

'Me too,' Stacey said brightly. Out of all of them, Stacey was the most academically gifted. Since they started high school she had been a favourite with all their Math teachers, and her love for the subject hadn't faded. She wanted to do a business degree, maybe start her own fashion design business or retail store.

'Not me,' Claudia mumbled as she munched, this time, on a Mars Bar. 'Once school is over, that's it for me. Never again shall I grace the halls of an academic institution. Institution being the key word. I feel like I'm waiting to be let out on parole!'

In the past few years, Claudia had improved her grades dramatically. Stacey deserved most of the credit, as it had been she who gave up her valuable weekends, lunch breaks, even some mornings before school, to tutor Claudia in math, English, science. It had been hard work, and more than once Stacey had wanted to murder her best friend – particularly when she was explaining Pythagoras' theorem for at least the eleventh time, only to hear Claudia earnestly ask, 'what's a theorem?' But the rewards had more than made up for any minor frustrations she had experienced. When Claudia raced over to her car after school one crisp fall afternoon and shoved a piece of paper in her face – an English paper adorned with a bright red A, the first in a line of many excellent grades she would achieve – Stacey felt so proud of her best friend she thought her heart would burst. Claudia, Mary Anne and Kristy had celebrated with the largest ice cream sundaes they could find in all of Stoneybrook, but Stacey was happy enough to watch her friends indulge as she chewed daintily on pre-prepared carrot sticks and cucumber slices. She had never seen Claudia so happy, and it made her happy too.

Stacey had been trying to persuade Claudia to apply to art schools, but Claudia remained convinced that she could make it on her own – the details of this grand plan were left as yet undiscussed. Stacey knew Claudia would love art school, but she also knew that Claudia's parents would never agree to their daughter pursuing a career in art, and that it was easier for Claudia to pretend she didn't want to go than to deal with the fact that her parents had never accepted her for who she was. Stacey hadn't yet given up on her friend.

'Not long now,' Stacey said. 'I feel a bit like you, Claud. You know I don't mind school, but at the same time – it's like we're waiting for our _real _lives to begin.'

'What?' Claudia gasped in mock horror. 'You mean people don't have to ask for permission to go to the bathroom in the real world? That people in the real world actually spend evenings and weekends _not _huddled over computer writing papers and solving math problems? Dare I ask – do people in the real world _enjoy _life?'

Mary Anne giggled and Stacey grinned broadly, stretching out on her chair. She reached for a slice of watermelon and bit into it thoughtfully. Despite Claudia's protests, she was really enjoying life. School was wonderful, and she wasn't concerned that she would have to return soon. She and her Dad had been getting along amazingly well, and she was due to visit him in New York the following day. And her friends – sometimes, Stacey couldn't believe how lucky she was to have such wonderful friends.

The Baby Sitters Club was no more. Dawn was in California for good, Mallory was still at boarding school; Jessi, Shannon and Abby were consumed by their love of ballet, academics and soccer respectively. As for Claudia, Stacey, Mary Anne and Kristy – their lives were getting busy, and no longer could they justify spending so much time caring for the neighbourhood children. Kristy, of course, missed the club terribly, and retained a consultative role in BSC v. 2.0, run by Charlotte Johannsen. Stacey sometimes wondered if Kristy wished the BSC was still in operation – lately, she had seemed a little flat, as though she was lacking the passion for life she once had. She vowed to keep an eye on her.

They still saw Dawn when she visited her Stoneybrook family – she had only flown back to California a week ago after a brief summer visit. Mallory sent them letters from Riverbend every now and then, and sometimes they saw Jessi at the Rosebud or playing at the local playground with her brother Squirt. Abby and Kristy still bonded over their love of sports, and Shannon's family occasionally had dinner with Kristy's. But the four of them – the original members of the BSC – had retained a special bond that none of the other members had. Stacey couldn't see that any of them had changed that dramatically since they were in seventh or eighth grade – they were simply nice girls. While the people they had grown up with were partying, drinking themselves into a stupor every weekend, sleeping indiscriminately with one another, Stacey and her friends were happy watching movies, laughing until their stomachs hurt over seemingly never-ending dinners, and generally enjoying each other's company. Logan and Mary Anne were committed, as were Kristy and Bart Taylor, Stacey was dating Pete Black semi-seriously and Claudia was never lonely, but they never let anything come between their friendship.

Stacey's thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of a phone ringing.

'I'll get it!' Stacey said, jumping up from her chair. 'Anyone want any more fruit?' They shook their heads and so did she – the plate of fruit was almost full, and she was the only one who had eaten any. She wondered how her friends all managed to stay slim. Sighing, she picked up the plate of fruit and ran with it into her house. Claudia pulled her sunglasses over her eyes and lay back, ready to soak up the sun. Mary Anne picked up the book she had brought along with her – _Pride and Prejudice, _one of her favourites – and began to read. Kristy pulled out her cell phone and typed a text to Bart.

Then they heard a crash.

'What was that?' Claudia asked sleepily.

'It sounded like it came from inside. Do you think Stacey's alright?' Kristy just shrugged in response to Mary Anne's question, but Claudia rose from her chair.

'I'll just go and check on her,' she said.

'I'll come with you,' said Mary Anne. 'I can feel my skin burning already.'

Claudia and Mary Anne hurried inside, with Kristy tailing behind them.

'Stacey,' Claudia called. 'Is everything okay?' There was no answer. The three friends walked into the kitchen. There they saw Stacey, silent and unmoving, sitting on the floor amongst a scattered pile of bananas, oranges and apples.

'Stace!' Claudia gasped, and rushed to her side. 'What is it? What's wrong? Is it your diabetes? Do you need your insulin?' The words came out in a hurried mess and Claudia worried that Stacey didn't understand her, because she got no response.

'Stacey!' she cried, more urgently. 'What happened?' Mary Anne and Kristy had knelt next to her, and the three of them stared at Stacey, wide-eyed and panicking. Stacey was ghostly pale, as though all the life had drained from her body. She said nothing.

'Please, Stace', Mary Anne said gently. 'What's wrong? Are you sick?' Stacey shook her head. 'Did you fall?' Again, she shook her head. Kristy glanced sideways and noticed the phone lying on the floor, obviously dropped.

'Stacey, who called you? Who was on the phone?'

Stacey breathed in deeply, but said nothing.

'Who was it Stace?' Kristy was not giving up. 'Was it your Mom?'

Suddenly, Stacey let out a shrill scream and began sobbing uncontrollably. It caught her friends by surprise; they didn't know how to respond. Claudia lightly touched her arm and Stacey, encouraged by the gesture, clung to Claudia's arm. Mary Anne hugged them both, puzzled but willing to comfort. They had no idea what could possibly be wrong.

Kristy, practical Kristy, picked up the phone and put it to her ear. She heard a voice,

"Miss McGill? Are you there Miss McGill?'

'She…um, she can't come to the phone right now.'

'Who is this?'

'Kristy Thomas. I'm Stacey's friend. Who is this?'

'I'm calling from the hospital, Miss Thomas.'

'The hospital?' Kristy furrowed her brow. 'Why? What happened?' As the woman on the other end of the phone explained exactly what had happened, in excruciating detail and with horrifying detachment, Kristin Amanda Thomas – who proudly boasted to anyone who would listen that she was _not _a wimp, that she had watched Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights and any number of other weepy classics with Mary Anne and remained as impassive as ever, who had broken her arm playing baseball the year before and simply gritted her teeth and played on – that very same Kristy Thomas felt her eyes well up as she began to cry.


End file.
